Lonely Is The Night
by i'mnotcrazy82
Summary: Since detoxing from Vicodin, things haven't gone House's way. After a night of heavy drinking, who comes to his rescue? Later HUDDY. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**I watched as Wilson and Sam left the loft, laughing at some shared memory. His arm was draped loosely around her shoulders, pulling her into him. She was huddled close to him, so close they were practically joined at the hip. They seemed...happy.**

**Part of me hated them. They pretended to be so happy, when they were marginally less miserable than everybody else. **

**That, and they were getting some _some_. Lucky bastards.**

**So, here I was, another Friday night, alone. Well, not completely, there was my porn, and the number of a particularly buxom hooker named Sarah that I'd met in the Clinic a few months ago. Sometimes, Clinic _does_ have its advantages.**

**But, I wasn't in the mood for porn, or for hookers or strippers. I'd grown bored with them. I wanted something else, someone else.**

**Someone that I couldn't have.**

**So, I spent my summer break in rehab, trying to figure out what drew me to her. She was the forbidden fruit, the golden apple. One bite, and I was hooked for life.**

**I stood up from the couch, angry at myself. I hated that I dwelt on the past like that. The past was over, done. There wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it. It was time to move on.**

**I limped to my room, ignoring the pulsating ache radiating from my mangled thigh. I tossed my ratty plaid robe on my bed, then dressed, fast. I pulled my old leather riding jacket out of the closet, as well as my helmet. It was time to get back on the bike. Literally and metaphorically.**

**I locked the door to loft, smirking smugly to myself. Wilson had left his keys conveniently on the kitchen counter. I turned my cell phone off.**

**I left the building, and walked the short distance down the street. There she was, all black and chrome, gleaming in the dirty orange street light. A poor replacement for the orange Repsol, but she stood out on the lot. On the right side, a large scrape marred the smooth tank, denting the chrome. I got her for six grand below market value; a good deal.**

**I put on the red helmet. My black one had been damaged in the crash last spring, and I hadn't replaced it yet. I straddled the bike, settling myself on the leather seat, listening to it creak beneath my weight. I put the key in the ignition, and opened the throttle, listening to it roar to life. **

**That's why I picked her. She may not be winning any beauty contests soon, but she makes up for it in pure power. I let her warm up, then, a few minutes later, I walked her out of the space, then, I shifted gears, and I rode into the dark night.**

**I rode out of Princeton like the devil herself was on my ass. To be honest, I'm surprised I never got a speeding ticket, as fast as I was flying. The bike responded smoothly to every turn, every shift of my weight. It wasn't long, and I was in Atlantic City.**

**It was nearly midnight, but the city never slept. The bright neons of the main drag illuminated me brightly, the blues, greens, yellows, oranges, and pinks reflecting off the black tank. The smell of salt and sea hung in the air, with the smell of a large, living city, exhaust fumes, and restaurants; as well as dead fish.**

**It's my kind of town.**

**I pull a little away from the main drag, and I find myself at a little club. The brick was crumbling, and about half the neon lights had winked out. The glass windows were small and frosted. **

**It felt like home away from home.**

**I limped inside, the heavy door creaking as I opened it. The place was dimly lit, the lights were in deep shades of blue and red; perfect for a jazz club. I made my way down a narrow hallway, then, the building opened up.**

**Sheer drapes hung from the walls, coating them like cobwebs. A long bar illuminated by green and blue lights stood guard at one end of the building, while a small stage took up residency at the opposite end. A lone microphone stood sentinel at the front of the stage, and there was an old, beat-up black baby grand piano near the back. A few small amps were scattered on the rough wooden boards, scuffed from nearly five decades of shoes.**

**There was a small dance floor directly in front of the stage, but there weren't a lot of people using it. People came here to listen. Tables were scattered around the rest of the large room, and there were a handful of people sitting at them, sipping at drinks, trying to forget whatever they were here to forget.**

**I limped over to the bar. I ordered a scotch, no ice, no soda, and I found a seat in the back.**

**And I waited.**

**For what, I don't know. **

**I sat there until the wee hours of the morning, nursing on scotches, waiting for god knows what. A lovely African American girl wearing a white dress took the stage. Her melodic, brooding voice echoed through the microphone through the club. **

**My thoughts drifted. So much was happening, and it was happening way too fast. I don't like change, but change is inevitable. Wilson was on the verge of throwing me out. I knew it; he knew it, hell, the entire staff of PPTH probably knew it. It was only a matter of time before he picked Sam over me.**

**Speaking of making the wrong choice, Cuddy and her love puppy were in happily unwedded bliss. For how long, I don't know. All I knew, was that I was on the outside looking in.**

**It was fucking depressing.**

**So what did I do for the rest of the night? Duh, I drank myself in a stupor, something I had been doing more and more of as of late. When the pain, whether from my leg, or from simply living, reared its ugly head, I stepped into a bottle, which is what I was used to doing; except now, it was a bottle of booze instead of a bottle of vicodin.**

**Closing time was announced, and last call. I decided that it was time for me to leave, and I got up. Big mistake. I'd misjudged how much I'd had to drink, and I crashed into the wall as I wobbled unstably. I made enough noise that people took notice.**

**The bouncer came up to me, a big burly youth in his early twenties. "You okay, man," the kid asked in a heavy Bronx accent. He put a meaty hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me.**

"**Just dandy," I slurred. He frowned, then turned to the bartender. "Call a cab. We got a boozer."**

**I jerked my arm out out of his light grasp. "I'm not your girlfriend." Damn, it sounded garbled, even to me. "I can call my own goddamned ride home." He took a couple steps back, his hands raised in an I surrender position. Good.**

**I reached into my pocket, and I pulled out my cell. I turned it on, and I found I had a voice mail. It took me a moment to remember I'd locked Wilson out of the apartment. F*ck, there went that option. I blearily scrolled down through the names, and I realized how empty my phone was. There was only maybe 3 or 4 people I could call.**

**Thirteen and Foreman were at the hospital, and they couldn't pick me up. There was no answer from Taub. Ditto for Chase. That left only one number, and I really didn't want to dial it, but I did, anyway.**

**A few minutes later, I hung up. I turned to face the bartender and the bouncer. "Gotta ride," I announced. Swaying slightly on my feet, I exited the building. Once outside, I slid down wall, slumping on the cement stoop.**

**And I waited.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The phone rang at 2am.**

**I cursed in the dark, knowing exactly who it was. Only one person had the gall to call me at that obscene hour. One soon to be deceased Head of Diagnostics.**

**I growled, and I picked up the phone. "What do you want?" I barked. I had been on the cusp of falling asleep, and I wasn't amused at being woken up before reaching REM.**

"**Are you wearing that sexy see through gown?" His voice was very slurred; he'd been drinking. Heavily, from what I gathered.**

**I sat up in bed, my annoyance giving way to concern. House doesn't drunk dial me. Wilson, of course, but not me. Something was up. I heard him crash in to something, then swear. "Are you alright?" I asked quickly, brushing my hair out of my eyes.**

"**A little coordination issue," he chuckled, happily inebriated. "And I don't wanna pay the cab fare for a trip to Princeton. If you pick me up, I can make it worth your while." I could hear his lecherous grin over the phone.**

"**No you couldn't," I said quickly.**

"**I could, and you know it." He paused. "Look, Vin Diesel here and his buddy are looking at tossing my ass in the pokey if I can't get a ride. Can I just get a ride home, please?"**

**I hesitated. He never said the word please, and never begged except to get out of Clinic Duty. Something was wrong.**

**I sighed, knowing I was going to regret this later. "Okay. Give me about two hours."**

"**Two hours!?" came the explosion. He grumbled a bit. "Okay," he finally conceded, after a burst of expletives. He gave me the name and address. **

"**Okay, I'll meet you there." The phone clicked off. **

**I sighed, and got out of bed. **

**He was damn lucky. Rachel was spending the weekend at Mom's house. I had a lot work to get caught up on, so when Mom asked me if she could have Rachel up for a visit, I told her yes.**

**I was irritated as I pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. I was still cursing to myself as I pulled my hair back in a tail.**

**The son of a bitch owned me. Big time.**

**I didn't know I was going use this time to pick up his sorry ass from god knows where on the wrong side of Atlantic City.**

**I gritted my teeth, and as I pulled onto the freeway, I had the pedal to the metal.**

**I got to the building in a about an hour and twenty minutes. I was mildly surprised that I hadn't been stopped; Jersey cops always prowl that stretch of freeway. I exhaled, trying to calm my frayed nerves, and I got out of my car...**

**Only to see him standing outside a dilapidated building with a deep red and blue neon advertising the Blues, arguing with a couple of cops.**

**Damn it. Of all the times to flout his issues with authority... I rolled my eyes, and I killed that thought like I'd kill him later. When we were far, far away from witnesses.**

**I rolled my shoulders back, taking on my best authoritarian posture. "Officers, can I help you?"**

"**Thank GOD you're here!" House blurted out swaying slightly. I swear, I could smell the scotch from here. "I told 'em you're comin' ta get me."**

"**Ma'am," one of the officers began, but I held up a hand.**

"**He broke his leash. This," I emphasized, staring into those red rimmed baby blues as I spoke, "will not happen again." Silently, I willed to him Will it?**

**He looked at me, and he grinned, maniacally. Sometimes, I swear he's out to either get thrown in jail, to get his skinny ass kicked, or to be murdered. "I only broke my leash because she broke her whip," he felt the need to inform the cops. "It's tough being married to a dominatrix."**

**I immediately wished the earth would swallow me whole right there, but, I'd deal with him later. I turned to the cops, keeping my composure. "What did he do?"**

**The shorter of the two shrugged. "We just got a call about a drunk and disorderly. He was being loud and obnoxious, and someone called in a complaint."**

**I rolled my eyes. "He's worse when he's sober," I muttered.**

**The cop choked back a laugh. Apparently, he'd been on the end of one of House's biting observations.**

**I was a little amazed he wasn't in cuffs already.**

**It took about fifteen minutes, but I finally convinced the cops not to haul his sorry drunk ass to jail. I wheeled him around to the car, and told him to get inside, which, after some complaining he did. I got in, and we began our drive back to Princeton.**

**He must have noticed my clenched jaw, or the white knuckle grip on my steering wheel, or the rigidity of my spine; whatever it was, he knew I was pissed.**

"**Why di'ja do it?" He asked, bluntly, while staring out the window of my car. I kept silent, biting my lip to keep from answering. "You're feeling guilty."**

"**About what?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.**

"**About everything." He paused, rubbing his thigh. "About Lucas."**

**I tensed. "What about him."**

"**He's not here, and you came and got me." He kept rubbing at his leg. "He doesn't know, does he?"**

"**Know what?" I snapped. "Besides, he's in Boston, on a case." I stole a glance at him; his eyes were shut, and his head was resting against the window. His lips, though, were quirked up in a slight smirk.**

"**Know, that you love me." At my gasp, he chuckled. "Or the fact you want to get into my pants."**

"**I," I stressed, "do NOT want to get anywhere near your pants." I sighed. "I just want us to be...like we used to be."**

"**People change."**

**I shot him a look. "You used to say 'people don't change.'"**

"**Then, I changed."**

"**I don't believe that," I scoffed.**

"**I did, ask my therapist," he muttered under his breath.**

**He fell silent, ruminating over something. I just wish I knew what.**

**We drove for a while, and all could hear was his breathing, and the sound of his palm running up and down his jean clad thigh.**

"**Why are you drinking so much?" I asked, unnerved by the silence.**

"**Duh," came his eloquent retort.**

"**Are you in pain."**

**He paused. "Always." He suddenly shifted in his seat. "Pull over."**

"**What?" **

"**Pull over, or I pee all over your floor mats.**

**I believed that he would. I pulled over, and he got out.**

**While he stood by the metal rail, his back to me, illuminated by my blinking emergency lights, I waited. Alone.**

**Wondering why I agreed to this.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I pissed her off.**

**And what's sad, is I didn't really feel bad about it, but she had ways of getting me back.**

**Like bringing up my leg pain.**

**I could barely stand up straight, and my brain was fuzzy. The scotch I've been downing for the past couple of hours, plus the bourbon I bought in the liquor store to drink while I was waiting for her had finally hit the final exit.**

"**Pull over," I demanded, still slurring a bit.**

"**What?" She asked, confused. She should be used to the way I can change subjects on a dime.**

"**Pull over," I repeated, annoyed, "or I pee all over your floor mats." I reached for my fly for emphasis.**

"**Okay," she squeaked, tugging the car over to the shoulder of the deserted interstate. I hobbled out, and she turned on her emergency blinkers. I gripped the edge of the concrete barrier, and I tried to stand upright. **

**What the hell was I doing? **

**My brain was sluggish; I tried to force it to work, but it just wasn't going to. I finished, and I staggered back to the car. **

**I was happily numb. I couldn't feel anything but the ache in my leg, which seemed to be immune to my self-prescribed and administered pain reliever. **

**I slid back in the seat, feeling dizzy. She turned back on the freeway, and we drove on.**

"**Are we there yet?" I whined as I reclined the seat back, trying to stretch out as much as possible.**

**The look she gave me was withering. A lesser man would have shut up there on the spot.**

**I'm not a lesser man.**

"**Where's your brat? Pawned off on a relative?"**

**She'd just began to relax when I dropped that little nugget on her.**

"**She's at my mother's this weekend, and," she rolled her head to give me a dirty look, "I did not pawn her off on my mom. She wanted to spend time with her granddaughter."**

"**Yeah, the only granddaughter that's not related to her," I snorted.**

**She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't. She decided to ignore me instead.**

**Or so I thought.**

"**Why are you drinking so much," she asked, bluntly, trying to deflect. Well, two can play at this game, and I'm the champion.**

"**Because it makes me feel funny," I snarked.**

"**You're deflecting," she pointed out.**

"**Pot-kettle-black," I airily waved a hand. The alcohol was really getting to me. My fingers and hands were tingling, almost painfully, with pins and needles, and the rocking motion of the car was starting to make me nauseous if I opened my eyes.**

"**Why are you drinking so much," she asked again, she was a pit bull, and she wasn't letting go of this one.**

"**Because it takes away the pain," I snapped, my mood changing swiftly with my annoyance.**

**She inhaled sharply. "How bad is it?" she asked, tentatively, gently.**

"**Bad," was my short answer. The nausea was really starting to get to me, and the world was spinning even though my eyes were closed. Stacy always joked that I was a light weight; I think she may have had a point. I HAD exceed my usual does of liquid escape...**

"**If you need to throw up..."**

"**If someone would shut up...," I gave her a dirty look. "I'll be fine," I told her, grimacing. She WAS just trying to help...**

**We drove for what seemed like forever in silence. I was hoping that the silence would settle my stomach. I was wrong.**

**So, I broke that silence; stupid me.**

"**So what's up with you and Lucas?"**

**She sighed. "We're fine."**

"**You're frustrated. You're not fine."**

"**He....he," she frowned. "This really isn't any of your business."**

"**You're not happy. You're frustrated."**

"**I am happy."**

"**Liar."**

**She became quiet. "He..."**

"**He makes you think you're happy?"**

**She chuckled, sadly. "He wants me to quit PPTH, and move out of Princeton. With him.**

**I opened my eyes. "Bad idea."**

**She scoffed. "The only reason I'm telling you is because you won't remember it in the morning.**

**The pain in my thigh flared. "You still came and picked me up," I commented, rubbing my leg. **

"**We had a fight about it." She paused. "I like my job. I like Princeton."**

"**You like being in control."**

"**I like my life."**

"**So, trouble in paradise?"**

"**Shut up, House." Her tone brokered the end of the conversation. So, I took her advice. I closed my eyes, and I tried to put all the puzzle pieces together.**

**I'm not sure, but I think I passed out, instead.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I drove back to Princeton in blissful silence, periodically checking on him. Of course, his snoring let me know that he was still breathing.**

**I made a mental note to charge him for the professional cleaning I was going to have to have on my upholstery from the drool that was dripping from his open mouth.**

**If the situation wasn't so absurd, or depressing, I'd laugh.**

**He was right, of course. Even drunk, he knew what was going on.**

**Lucas had been jealous of my relationship with House from the get go. And now, he was jealous of my relationship with the hospital. It was becoming a never ending circle of frustration.**

**It had been great, at first. He'd been supportive during the stressful time that House had been in rehab. He was great with Rachel, and my family loved him.**

**It had seemed perfect.**

**Then, cracks had begun to appear in the facade. House had come back, and our love/hate relationship had come roaring back.**

**Too bad it had made Lucas very jealous.**

**At first, he had pretended like it didn't bother him, that it was perfectly fine. But, as time wore on, he became increasing irritated by it. I was to blame for some of it. I'd come home from the hospital, and I'd rant and rail about how House was acting, and I knew that it hurt him to know that, even though we were together, my relationship with House would trump everything.**

**I was selfish, and it affects our relationship.**

**As we drew closer to Princeton, I began to relax. This was home, and it had been for nearly a decade and a half. **

**House always says, people don't change, and they don't like change. In my case, about the big things, that's very true. My friends are here, my job is here. It's a great place to raise Rachel. I'd rather buy an urban loft downtown than move out of the area.**

**Lucas just wanted to get away from House; which wouldn't be a bad idea for our relationship.**

**But I've known House longer, and I didn't want to abandon a friend.**

**I looked over at his form. He snorted and twitched in his stupor. I couldn't call it sleep, despite the fact he was snoring. His tolerance for alcohol was as legendary as his diagnostic skills, but this was beyond even his levels.**

**He'd underwent so much in the past year, but this was just about the lowest I'd seen him.**

**And yes, that includes when he confessed having a delusion of us having sex.**

**I wanted to help him; I really did. I just didn't know how.**

**He wasn't the type of person who wanted someone to aide him overtly; he was much too proud. And he didn't listen worth a damn.**

**But I really couldn't let him fall farther than he already had.**

**The only thing I could really do was be there for him, despite how hard he made it on people for doing that. **

**I bit my lip. By helping him, I'd be abandoning my new family; something I'd been avoiding doing all year. People who are close to House get hurt. Badly. And I couldn't do that to Rachel.**

**Could I?**

**I sighed. Maybe there was a way I could help him without abandoning her. In fact, that had to be the only way. He was going to have to learn to accept my new boundaries. If he could, maybe there was hope for him. **

**I could only hope Lucas could forgive me.**

**About a half an hour later, we pulled into my driveway. I got out of the car, and he stirred a little. I walked around to his door, and reached over him. I unbuckled his seat belt, and he snorted awake. "Wanna do a little servicing while your down there?" he slurred. **

**Part of me wanted to slap him. A large part. A very large part. Instead, I hissed, and stood back up. "I'm sure you'd like that, but, I don't get paid by the hour," I retorted dryly. He smirked. "Now, get your drunk ass out of my car." He grunted, and he hauled himself up, cursing the entire time. He got to his feet, swaying. "C'mon," I encouraged him. "One foot in front of the other."**

**He glared at me. "Easy for you to say," he blinked at me. He put a large hand on my shoulder. "Lead the way, Kemo Sabe."**

**I guided him into the house, and he looked around; as if he'd hadn't seen the inside before. I lead him down the hall, and into my bedroom. He dropped on the bed, sighing with relief of being horizontal. "Bathrooms right through that door," I told him. He made a non-commental groan deep in his throat, his eyes closed. "Well," I sighed, "do you want something to eat." He just moaned again, and I decided to at least make him a cup of ginger tea. It'd help sooth his stomach when the hangover hit him.**

**It took me about five to ten minutes in the kitchen to prepare the cup of tea. I re-entered the bedroom, only to find him completely spread eagle on my bed. I rolled my eyes, and I set the cup down on the nightstand. **

**I looked at him, his face looking so young in sleep, the years and burdens seemingly washed away from his face. **

**I resisted an urge to to stroke his heavily bristled face. He was always clean shaven in college; the scruff had been a post-infarction addition, but it suited him well. To help fight temptation, I unlaced his sneakers, and I pulled them off. I put them beside the bed, where I knew he wouldn't trip over them.**

**He was sleeping on the comforter, so I walked out to the hallway, and I pulled a quilt from the top shelf of the linen closet. He was snoring loudly when I walked back into the bed room, so I covered him with it, and I turned to walk away.**

**He darted out a hand, and he gently but firmly grasped my wrist. "Stay," he breathed, deep in sleep.**

**I wanted to. Every fiber in my body wanted to curl up around his side, to give him the comfort that someone was there.**

**But I couldn't. I gently pulled my arm out of his grip. He sighed, and I swear it was heavy with sadness. I stood there watching him for a moment. When he relaxed back into a light sleep, I left the room.**

**I left the hall light on, but dawn was starting to break, anyway. I tugged an old throw my grandmother had made for me when I was a teenager out of the closet. I walked out into the living room, I curled up on the couch, wishing I wasn't sleeping alone.**

**The irony wasn't lost on me. The man that I'd fantasized about for the last decade and a half was lying in my bed, and I was curled up alone on the couch. My life was indeed, that screwed up.**

**I decided to close my eyes and try to sleep. I guess I was much more tired than I'd realized, because I was asleep before my head hit the little throw pillow I was using.**

**My dreams were haunted my a tall, misanthropic man with brilliant blue eyes.**

**Lucky me.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**I was seven years old again, and my parents were fighting.**_

_**We were stationed in Munich, and I was hiding under my bed in the house the military had provided.**_

_**My dad had been in a foul mood when he'd returned from base. I had been eating dinner, pushing the food around on my plate.**_

"_**Finish it, boy," my dad had growled. I hated broccoli; I was pretty sure it was invented just to get me in trouble. **_

"_**John, dear," my mother had tried to placate him. "He's just full. He ate nearly all his meatloaf and mashed potatoes."**_

"_**Blythe," my mother bit her lip at my father's warning. "The boy is wild and reckless. He's gotta learn."**_

"_**What does that have to do with broccoli," I heard my mother mutter. He gave her a dirty look, and she clammed up. That made me mad.**_

_**I threw down the napkin on the table, and I got up out of my chair, so angry at him. "I'm not gonna eat it, and you can't make me!" I shouted at him.**_

_**Talk about Famous Last Words...**_

_**I'd never seen the man move so fast. He held me down in a wrestling style lock, and he shoved the offending vegetable in my mouth. I fought him, but he was so much bigger than me. After finishing off all the broccoli, not just the green mound on my plate, but the left overs as well, he jerked me to my feet, and he spanked me, so hard I was sure I wasn't going to sit down for a week.**_

_**I writhed out of his grip, my young pride severely wounded. I saw my mom crying in the background, yelling at my dad to stop. I'd balled up my hands into fists, but my dad just sat back down in his seat. "Sit, son," he demanded. I didn't right away. "Sit," he commanded again, like I was a dog, "or the ass smacking you just got will seem like a walk in the park." I believed him, and I sullenly slid in my seat.**_

_**After dinner, dad made me sit in the kitchen. Just sit there. I couldn't move, couldn't talk. Couldn't even go to the bathroom. I felt sick. My stomach kept churning, but I couldn't be sick. Dad would just make me clean it up, then he'd make Mom make some more, then make me eat it. It was better to just sit there and feel sick. Finally, around 11 o'clock, he told me to go to bed, which I did.**_

_**I ran to my room, and instead of crawling into bed, I crawled under it. I curled up in a ball, my feeling very sick. I swallowed hard; I knew I couldn't be sick. I'd only be punished even more.**_

_**While hiding my pain, I heard voices drifting up from the heating vent. Curious, I laid my ear against the cold metal vent, so I could hear better.**_

"_**Dammit John!" my mother cried. "Why do you have to treat him like that! He's just a little boy!"**_

"_**I'm just raisin' him the way my father did me. I'm just teachin' the li'l runt respect. It ain't my fault that he's thick headed. I think he gets it from your family."**_

"_**He's so sensitive and sweet. If you'd just reason with him..."**_

"_**He's a boy, and he's gonna learn to be a man. In a man's world, there ain't no such thing as sensitive. It's one hell of a tough world out there, Blythe, and he's gonna have to learn to deal with it." I heard him pace the floor in his heavy boots. "And hidin' underneath his mama's skirts ain't gonna do it."**_

_**I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I crawled out of bed, and opened the window. There I puked into my mom's small garden, crying.**_

**I woke up feeling sick, and I could hear shouting.**

**For a split second, I thought I was seven again, and hiding from my dad's cruelty.**

**I had no idea where I was, nor how I'd gotten there. All I know was that it wasn't Wilson's, it wasn't my old place, and it wasn't a neighbor's.**

**Then I made out the voices. **

"**What the hell is he doing here? And in your bed?"**

**Cuddy's voice resonated through my thoughts. "He was drunk..."**

"**Then have him spend the night in jail!" A sigh of exasperation. "Look, Lisa. He just takes advantage. First Wilson, and, now, you. He'll just keep sucking you dry until there's nothing left."**

**She sighed. "I thought you were his friend, too."**

"**I was his friend." Pacing. "Look, Lise, how can I trust you if I come home and find him here? I know you still have feelings for him."**

"**I do NOT have feelings for him. The venom in her voice was tangible. A cramp hit my stomach, and I thought I was going to puke right then.**

"**You have a funny way of showing it," the sarcasm was thick.**

"**Excuse me?" Uh-oh, I knew that tone, and it was enough to make the most die-hard mercenary beg for forgiveness.**

**Unfortunately, Lucas wasn't that smart.**

"**Look," he kept going, apparently ignoring the warning in her voice. "I'm just saying that it's hard for me to keep loving you when you give all of your time to someone else."**

"**Then," her voice was saccharine sweet. "If you think that, you can pack up your shit, and leave."**

"**Lisa, don't be..."**

"**This is MY life, Lucas. I will live the way I want to. I will pick and choose who comes into my home, and I choose him over you, right now."**

**His voice changed. "When he hurts you, I won't be there to comfort you." He was sullen and sulky. I heard the door slam, and Cuddy started crying. I could hear her sobs from in here. **

**My stomach cramped again, and I felt bile rise up in my throat. I kicked off the throw that my legs were tangled in. I sat up, and realized that was a huge mistake. The world spun at a rapid rate, and I became so dizzy, I fell off the bed. Pain like white lighting lanced through me. I hurt and was going to be sick. I looked up, and there was a small plastic trash can beside the bed. It'd have to do.**

**Life sucked, but it sucked even worse with a hangover.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I didn't think I'd sleep, but I did.**

**Until Lucas came home.**

**We'd had a fight a day or so ago about me moving to New York with him. I wasn't comfortable with the thought of moving away from Princeton, but maybe he thought that a day or two to think about it would change my mind.**

**It didn't. Yet.  
**

**He didn't even knock, he just came whistling through the front door with a bouquet of flowers. "Hey, Lisa!" he bellowed, jingling his keys in one hand in a happy rhythm.**

**I groaned, forcing myself to sit up. I rubbed at my eyes, still exhausted.**

"**Jesus, Lisa!" he rushed over to me. "You look like hell," he told me while pulling me into an embrace. Then he paused. "Why are you on the couch?" He glanced around, looking for paperwork; it's not unusual for me to fall asleep while working.**

"**It's been a long night," I murmured, brushing the brief remnants of sleep from my eyes.**

"**I can tell that," he muttered. He peeked down the hall, and he saw my bedroom door open. And a pair of feet at the end of the bed. His expression changed from concern to betrayal to anger. "What the hell is going on here?"**

"**House was drunk," I began, sighing.**

"**And?" Lucas spun around, looking at me suspiciously. "You picked him up?"**

**I was exhausted, and I didn't really feel like arguing with him. Unfortunately, my frustration just added fuel to the fire. "Yes," I said, pretty defensively.**

**He shook his head. "You're kidding me!" His voice rose with anger and his own frustration. "What the hell is he doing here? And in your bed?"**

**I really hate repeating myself. "He was drunk..."**

"**Then have him spend the night in jail!" His gestures grew wilder as he let loose. He stopped, then sighed. "Look, Lisa. He just takes advantage. First Wilson, and, now, you. He'll just keep sucking you dry until there's nothing left."**

**I sighed, rubbing my temples. I felt a headache growing. "I thought you were his friend, too."**

"**I was his friend." He paced the living room, frowning. "Look, Lise, how can I trust you if I come home and find him here? I know you still have feelings for him."**

"**I do NOT have feelings for him." Okay, maybe that was harsh, and more than a bit of a white lie. But I loved Lucas, didn't I? Why wasn't I that upset?**

"**You have a funny way of showing it," the sarcasm was thick.**

**What? "Excuse me?" My tone was low, dangerous. I thrust out my lower lip. I can be accused of many things, but this was the man who wanted me to move away with him. I trusted him, didn't I? Hadn't I given him ever reason to trust me since House re-entered my life, even to the point of nearly throwing him out of it?**

**Did I have to prove to this jerk I loved him?**

"**Look," he sighed, a sign of defeat. "I'm just saying that it's hard for me to keep loving you when you give all of your time to someone else."**

"**Then," my voice carried a warning tone, "If you think that, you can pack up your shit, and leave."**

"**Lisa, don't be..."**

"**This is MY life, Lucas. I will live the way I want to. I will pick and choose who comes into my home, and I choose him over you, right now."**

**His voice changed. "When he hurts you, I won't be there to comfort you." He walked to the door, and he slammed the door shut, leaving me so mad I was shaking.**

**Men are assholes.**

**So much drama wasted on what? Sex? Happiness? A cure for loneliness?**

**I think I'll just buy a vibrator and a cat. Far less expensive, and much less drama.**

**Lucas had left, stewing, and god, if I didn't know how fragile a man's pride was by now, I could be legally declared deaf, dumb, and blind.**

**And certifiably insane.**

**Why did I choose the biggest pain in the ass in my life over someone who'd been nothing but supportive from the get go?**

**I'd never know.**

**While I was pondering my next move, which possible included joining a convent, I heard a loud crash, and a curse shouted from my bedroom. Suddenly worried for House, I ran in there.**

**He was hunched over a small, white trash can in my room, throwing up. I took a deep breath, and I knelt down beside him, rubbing his back. He didn't try to push me away, but I could feel the muscles tense beneath my hand.**

**He finished, spitting into the can. "I'm pathetic," he panted, swallowing hard. I handed him the now cold tea from the nightstand, but I didn't say anything. That phrase was so loaded, I didn't want to give him even more fuel to his fire. He looked at me, his eyes bleary and red-rimmed. "I'm not content with screwing up my own life, so I gotta fuck up yours and Wilson's, too."**

**I tossed my hair back, and I gave him what had to be a weary grin. "Don't worry; I'm pretty good at screwing it up on my own, anyway. Your help in fucking it up is negligible."**

"**Is that fancy administrator speak for 'shut the hell up.'"**

**I gave him a small smirk. "Drink the tea. It'll help your stomach."**

"**Yes, mom." He took a drink, then made a sour face. "I hate tea."**

"**It's good for you."**

**He gave me an odd look, then took another drink. "You threw him out."**

**I sighed, leaning back against the bed. "He left," I clarified. "I didn't really throw him out." He sat back with me. We made one hell of a miserable pair. "I don't like being told what to do, or what to say," I explained, more to myself than to him. "Or," I kept my face forward, "who I can and can't be around."**

**I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt my flesh heat up. There was something one of the piercing, smoldering looks did to me.**

**It was exactly what I didn't need to be feeling. "I should take you back to Wilson's." I needed to break that heavy silence.**

"**Take my back to my old place." There was hurt in his voice. The words sunk in, and I slowly turned to face him, the question obviously written on my face.**

**He sighed, sadly. **"**Wilson's tossing me out."**


	7. Chapter 7

**I couldn't look at her.**

**I didn't want to see the pity in her eyes.**

**My life had been on a downward spiral for the past ten years, but this year was the worse, by far. It even beat the initial infarction. After trying to drag myself back to my feet, all I did was drive myself farther into misery, and I had been dragging my friends down with me.**

**We were a screwed up trio, no matter how you looked at us, but I was obviously the one who drug everyone down to my level.**

**I lived life on my terms, and the price I paid was high.**

**So I sat there, hungover and feeling sick, staring at the wall. She sat beside me, staring at the same wall, processing what I had said. **

"**You're not pathetic, you know," her words were soft, but strong. I looked over at her, and she was staring right at me. She shrugged, then looked away. **

**I turned to her, shifting my body. "Why do you say that?"**

**Her cheeks colored slightly, and she became uncomfortable. "Why is Wilson tossing you out?" She tried to change the subject.**

**Strong in the Force young Cuddy is, but she's still not Master Yoda. "You say I'm not pathetic. Why should I believe you?"**

**She still didn't look at me. "Because you aren't." She shrugged. "Now, why is Wilson throwing you out?"**

"**Because he's marrying Sam, and I'll just be the third wheel in their new start," I sighed, sullenly. "It's just a matter of time before he throws me out. He's happy now, and I'm just a misanthropic cripple who'll be in the way."**

"**But he hasn't yet?"**

**I frowned. "I found the ring while going through his sock drawer." She gave me a look, and I shrugged. "I was looking for a new porno, and that's where I keep 'em," I explained.**

"**And the world should be judged by your actions?" There was a playful wryness in her voice.**

"**Duh." I scratched idly at my beard. "After that, I started putting the pieces together. He's been trying to build up the nerve to do it, ya know." I glanced at her, suspiciously. "You DO know, don't you?"**

**The surprise was genuine. "Despite the fact you seem to think we're the diabolical conspirators of your life, we actually don't mind meld until you do something mildly stupid. Or crazy. Or just plain evil." She shook her head. "No, I didn't know about it. I knew he was growing closer to Sam, but..." She bit her lip, contemplating her next few words. I could see the wheels turning. How the hell did this woman win at poker; her feelings were etched on her face. "I would have tried to talk him out of it. Of kicking you out," she clarified.**

"**Don't think I can handle it on my own." That sounded much harsher than I wanted it to.**

**She jerked back, as if I had physically slapped her. "Of..of course not," she stammered, trying to correct her words. "It's just."**

"**I know," I growled, half upset at myself, and half upset at her. "I'm just the lunatic who can't handle life," I grumbled.**

**She scoffed, and it was my turn to give her a look. "You've always been a lunatic," she rolled her eyes. "It's just now you've been certified."**

**I barked out a dry laugh. She DID have a point. Her lips twitched up into a slight smile, then, she turned somber again. "Are YOU ready to move out." She paused. "More importantly, are you ready to move back to your own place?"**

"**You know, you're not my therapist," I informed her, leaning my head back against the mattress. My stomach was still churning, and I have to admit, the thought of going back to my old place was not helping matters.**

"**Speaking of which," Cuddy began. "Nolan called me." **

**I groaned, knowing where this was going to lead. "I don't have to go..."**

**Her voice took on that damn administrator tone. I may want to jump her bones on a good day, but that tone was the number one cause of shrinkage for me. "Actually, it's apart of the conditions of you coming back to the hospital..."**

**I exploded. "I've been clean for a fucking year! I've not had hallucinations since..." My voice dropped, and she looked hurt. "Since last spring," I finished.**

"**But," she rubbed her forehead. "You now have a drinking problem. You're an addict, House. You're just going to keep switching one fix for another. What are you going to do if I decided to send your ass to AA meetings."**

"**One night does not a drinking problem make," I shot back, secretly ashamed that she did have a point. Especially as I thought about that damn pint of Cutty Sark in my desk drawer back in the office. **

**I could see in her eyes that she didn't buy it anymore than I did. "We both know it's not going to be one night," she slumped, then recovered slightly. Her voice wavered, like she knew she was going to regret what she was going to say.**

**Heh, welcome to my world. Except, I don't have a shut off valve.**

**She closed her eyes. "I can't deal with this anymore, House. I can't go around saving you. The Board wanted me to terminate you after you broke down. It nearly cost Wilson and I both our jobs to save you. We can't do that forever. Eventually, we will fail."**

**I made the mistake of trying to stand up, and just keeled over. My stomach was roiling, as was my emotions. She tried to steady me, but I threw her off. "Maybe I don't want you to save me!" I shouted. "Maybe, I just want to drive myself so far down, that nobody can save me." I sniffed. "Maybe I'm already too far gone."**

**She clenched her jaw. "You're still drunk, and you're angry," she reasoned. She was right. The alcohol was still flowing in my veins, and my anger now flowed with it. I looked at the clock, and I realized I'd only been out for a couple of hours; it was still early morning, and my body was still metabolizing the booze I'd been poisoning myself with all night.**

**All to kill the pain.**

**I knew I was going to regret this, but I couldn't stop myself.**

**And I didn't particularly feel like trying.**

**I made my decision. Was it the right one?**

**Probably not.**

"**Take me back to my apartment," I hissed harshly. "Then get the f*uck out of my life." **

**Yup. That one was gonna be hard to take back...**


	8. Chapter 8

**House can be mean and cruel. Especially when things weren't going his way.**

**This was the proof.**

**Part of me really wanted to cry. That barb stung. Not as bad as some of the ones he's thrown at me in the past, but still, given the situation, it hit true.**

"**Okay," I breathed. Closing my eyes, willing the hurt away. "Okay."**

**I hopped to my feet, feeling my eyes sting with the weight of the unshed tears. I could fill a great lake with all the tears I've held back over the years.**

**Big girls don't cry. Okay, so I'm not a big girl. I'm a petite 5'4", but I'm strong. And strong girls don't cry, either. We put on our superhero underwear and capes, and we deal with what the guys leave us to deal with.**

**Then, in the lonely dark of cold night, we curl up into a tight ball, and we cry. We shed those tears that the rest of the world won't let us acknowledge. We cry into our pillows, wishing.**

**Wishing for someone to rescue us.**

**You see, us big, strong girls, we want what everyone wants.**

**A strong but gentle knight to ride up on a white horse, and take us into his strong arms, whispering that, when the dawn comes, everything will be fine.**

**But it won't.**

**And knights don't exist. I don't think they ever did.**

**It's just another lie in a world full of lies.**

"**Christ, Cuddy," I heard him groan. **

**I opened my eyes, and everything was blurry. In disbelief, I touched my cheeks which were wet. "I don't cry," I stammer, sniffling, mortified that he found me in my moment of weakness. **

**He crouched down in front of me, grimacing. He smelled like stale bourbon and vomit. Not the most pleasant of smells, but it was oddly, reassuring. He captured my hand in his, then used the calloused pad of his thumb to brush away the tears. "Everyone cries, Lisa," he rumbled.**

"**Is that one of your absolute truths?" I sniffled, trying to regain my lost composure.**

"**It's right up there with 'everybody lies,' he cracked a slight smirk, but there was something in those blue eyes. Something, lost. "There might be a correlation between the two," he mused.**

**I snorted. "You'd know."**

"**All too well," came the honest answer. He furrowed his brow. "I hurt the people that get close to me. I'm like a disease. And the only cure, is for me to cut myself out." His eyes never left mine. "I push people away," he said slowly, "because I don't want to hurt them."**

**That's House. Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Oil and water. An acid and a base. Things that cannot, and shouldn't be combined.**

**He was highly combustible, and I wasn't wearing any flame retardant clothes.**

**I was tired. Tired of being hurt over and over again. Tired of getting my hopes up, only to have them doused. Tired of being used.**

**It was time to end it. For once and for all. The destructive dance we'd been doing since the beginning had finally worn me down.**

**I wasn't a kid anymore.**

**I made my choice. And only god will know if was the right one.**

"**I'm fine," I lie. We all do.**

"**No, you're not. You're hurt."**

"**This," I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, trying to break his spell. "Is why we can't be...a thing."**

**He nodded. "I know."**

"**This is why," I took a deep breath. "This is why I'm going to leave Princeton. With Lucas."**

**He nodded again. Softly, the sadness resonating through every syllable, he whispered. "I know."**

**I nodded myself. "I'm going to drop you off at your apartment. I don't want you to call. I don't want you to write. And I don't want to see you in my office. Ever again."**

**Again, like a child who'd been punished, he nodded. "I know."**

"**Then, let's go." I got to my feet, straightening up, stretching out my kinked muscles.**

**I'd made my decision. That's what I told myself. **

**Then why was a nagging voice in the back of my brain asking me if I was sure if it was the right one?"**

**After all, everybody lies. Especially to themselves.**

**He finally said the words. He didn't want me to be in his life.**

**Well, his wish was granted. I just hope he didn't regret it.**

**I should have felt free, instead, I felt like a lead weight had replaced my heart.**

**I really was a selfish bitch.**


	9. Chapter 9

**My mouth felt like something small and furry had crawled in and died there. Every muscle in my body ached, but my head and thigh were dueling over which was the worst. My right hand throbbed when I tried to flex it. I was afraid of opening my eyes, knowing that assault on my senses would be too much.**

**So I laid there, trying to figure out what had happened to me. I half expected Wilson to burst through the door to my room at any moment to yell about what an ass I am. **

**But that never happened. **

**Curious, I cracked open an eye, and I immediately regretted it. The barrage of light from the window assaulted me, and I squeezed my eyes shut again.**

**What the hell did I do last night?**

**I finally decided to get up, even though I knew it was gonna hurt. I managed to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, then I doubled over, burying my face in my hands. God, I'd not been this hungover in a long time.**

**I blinked at the brightness, and I started to look around and get my bearings. I slowly realized something. I wasn't in the loft. I was in my old apartment. My eyes opened wider as I took in my surroundings. How the hell did I get here, and exactly how much did I drink last night.**

**My bladder sent me a strong message that I needed to pee, and I couldn't ignore it. I got up, wobbling a little. I hobbled to the bathroom. When I was finished, I placed my hands on either side of the sink, wishing that the thick cobwebs that had encompassed my mind. I turned on the faucet, and I filled my hands, scrubbing my face.**

**Then I looked myself in the mirror.**

**I looked like hell warmed over. Deep, dark circles emphasized my red-rimmed eyes. The lines on my face had seemed to become deeper overnight. My skin was pale and clammy. I felt worse than hell warmed over. I felt like death had paid me a visit, but he didn't have enough to pay the tab.**

**I blinked, then headed out into the living room on my way to the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks when I saw my couch.**

**Curled up in a ball on the lumpy, leather sofa was Cuddy.**

**Okay, now I really wanted to know what was going on. Or had gone on last night.**

**Cuddy stirred, looking so innocent underneath the old throw that I kept on the back of the couch. She stretched, then looked at me. Her expression was totally unreadable, but I got the feeling that she wasn't exactly happy with me at the moment.**

**I got that feeling from Cuddy a lot.**

**She pursed her lips, then she stood up and stretched, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out. "You okay?" she asked, not quite looking at me.**

**Fuck no, but I nodded a short jerky nod anyway. She started to put on her jacket, and I rubbed the back of my neck, wanting to ask her a question. Why was it so hard?"**

**I took a deep breath. "What the hell happened last night?"**

**She froze, then turned around. She bit her lower lip. "You...don't remember?" she asked, hesitantly.**

**I shook my head, then regretted it. My head was pounding. "I remember, leaving the loft," I said slowly, trying to piece the memories together. "Wilson and Sam were going on a date," I said aloud, more to myself than to her. "Then, I think I took the bike to Atlantic City." I frowned. "After that, it gets fuzzy."**

**She swallowed. "You called me, and I came and got you." She picked up her keys.**

"**There's got to be more than that," I muttered.**

**She shook her head. "You were your usual assh0le self," she said, sadly. Then she left.**

**I stood there for a while after she left, staring at the door. My hands shaking, I passed them over my face, rubbing at my eyes. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to remember what I'd done last night.**

**And especially what I did to hurt her. **

**Finally, I gave up, and I went to the kitchen looking for some coffee. Sadly, my cupboards were bare. So, I just got a glass of water, and I sat at the table, looking around.**

**I'd not been back at my place in a long time. I'd tried not to spend a lot of time here during my recovery. Too many bad memories, you know.**

**I tried to figure out how I wound up here, but I wasn't coming up with any conclusions. Cuddy would have taken back to the loft, right? Did I just imagine her here? The thought made me shudder. **

**I got up from the table, and I headed into my bedroom again. I dug through the dresser. I'd not moved all my stuff to Wilson's. In fact, I hadn't moved much. It was inevitable that I'd be coming back here. As many times as he threatened to throw me out, I figured I'd say something stupid and wind up back here for a night, anyway.**

**I pulled some clean clothes out of the drawers. I headed to the bathroom, happy I kept a spare toothbrush and toiletries here. How I wound up here still baffled me, but I figured I could get my brain in gear after a shower and some breakfast. My stomach let out an approving growl.**

**I felt the fog start to lift from me as soon as the blast of hot water hit me in the chest. I felt much better after I stepped out of the bathroom in clean clothes. Now, for bullet number two on my itinerary for today. Food. **

**I grabbed my keys, wallet and cell phone from the table by the door. I paused, seeing a note beside them. I picked it up, then shoved it in my jeans pocket. I'd deal with that later.**

**I opened up the door to leave, and there, on the other side, was a very irate looking Wilson.**

"**You're an asshole," he grumbled, glaring at me.**

**So, what else is new.**

**I sighed. This was going to be fun...**


	10. Chapter 10

**The rest of the weekend flew by in a booze colored haze. **

**Cuddy never called; never came to check up. Somehow, that was both a relief and a worry. The look of hurt she had on her face was haunting me, and, somehow, I knew that I was responsible for that.**

**Wilson wasn't exactly happy with me, but I managed to not only guilt him into taking back to A.C. for my bike, and I still got lunch AND dinner out of the deal. Pretty sweet for locking his sorry ass out of the apartment.**

"**You're an ass," he grumbled for the what had to be the millionth time that day.**

**Somehow, he knew something was bothering me. I suppose, in his own narcissistic view of the world, he thought it was his fault. Part of it was. I was a selfish bastard, and I did want him to myself, not in the way a jealous lover wanted him, but in the way he was my last grasp on life kind of way.**

**Everybody had abandoned me, except for he and Cuddy, and without them, I'd be nothing. I'd have nothing, and they were both slipping out of my grasp. They were leaving me behind, and the void that was left behind was sucking me in to it's dark depths.**

**I was being left alone and miserable, so I decided to help hurry things along.**

**We'd got back from A.C., I flipped on the _World Series of Poker_, and I settled on the couch, nursing a fifth of Jack. I didn't even look up at him. "So, what else is new?"**

"**You're killing yourself, you know," he frowned, glaring at me.**

"**Well," I shot back at him. "Give me another day, and you won't have to worry about that, anymore." I slumped back against the couch, sneering at the T.V.**

**He sighed in frustration, but he walked away. I heard him talk to Sam on his cell, then he left me alone to wallow in self-pity alone.**

**The man knows me all to well, and he didn't even freak out when he came home and found me passed out on the couch, naked.**

**I spent Sunday moving out. Wilson made a weak attempt to stop me, but I brushed him off. I was the third wheel, now, and I didn't want to stick around. We loaded up my belongings in my car, his car, and Sam's car, and we drove to my place. Since I'd already spent most of the weekend drowning my liver, I thought I'd finish up the trifecta with a bang.**

**Which is why I limped into work on Monday with one hell of a hangover and an even worse attitude.**

**I scowled at my underlings as I stormed into the conference room, waiting for our morning ritual. I threw my cane into a corner, and I slumped heavily into my chair. Low and behold, the kiddies had something for me, and after a quick, insult laden DDX, they scattered.**

**I'm pretty sure Chase was in tears. If not, he should have been. Even mini-stud had told me to back off. I hadn't realized Taub had grown some balls. Guess that was his way of dealing with his marital frustration instead of going out and getting some strange_ strange._  
**

**Well, they mostly scattered. **

**Foreman hung back, watching me carefully. "What's up?" he asked, pointedly.**

"**Last I checked, your brother's THC levels." Ba-zing for me.**

"**Ha ha," he rolled his eyes. "I heard you moved out of Wilson's loft. You sure that's a good idea?"**

**I narrowed my eyes. "Lover's quarrel, I'm sure I'll get over this broken heart" I grumbled, sarcastically. "Why do you care?"**

**He shrugged, ever stoic. Nothing seemed to phase the unflappable Foreman. "I don't. I care about my job, and if you're heading for the mad house again..." he trailed off, his dark eyes never leaving mine.**

**I leaned back in my chair, appraising him. "You're a cold-hearted bastard," I commented, mildly.**

**He didn't move. "I had a great teacher," he finally stated, dryly.**

"**Yeah," I snorted. "Now that we've cared and shared, go do your job and help the the Brit and Bi run the CT scan."**

"**You think Taub can handle talking to the husband all by himself?"**

**I looked at him, and I lifted an eyebrow. "Better than if you were there with him. After all, he speaks adulterer. You don't."**

**He gave me a small salute, then left me alone in the office.**

**I didn't expect Wilson to come visit me in my office today. I figured he was still a little sore at my abrupt departure from the loft this weekend, but sure enough, a little before noon, he came bursting through the glass doors.**

**I was reviewing some the patient's previous CT and MRI's, and I was checking her previous records, trying to find clues to what ailed her. I had some ideas, but no definite conclusion. Yet.**

**I looked up, and I pulled my reading glasses off. "Lunchtime already?" I was genuinely surprised by his visit.**

**He bit his lip, and he thrust his hands in his pockets, looking serious. "Have you heard?" he asked in a dejected voice.**

"**Heard what?" I frowned. "That the hot blond radiology tech has been dating 13? That's old news." I picked my scans back up, **

"**No," he began with a sigh. He took a deep breath. "That Cuddy's leaving the hospital."**


	11. Chapter 11

**My role in the morning meeting with the Board of Directors was short, but very painful.**

**I'd gotten to know many of these men and women over the years, and they'd grown to trust me, immensely. When I'd declared my intent on resigning as Dean of Medicine , citing my personal desire to leave Princeton, the gasps in the room were audible.**

"**Lisa," Dr. Ronald Brown's deep voice rumbled throughout the room, "are you sure this is what you want to do?" His warm, dark eyes focused on me, trying to read me. I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck, even though air in the room was cool and dry thanks to the air-conditioning. Twelve pairs of eyes focused on me, and I fought to keep my demeanor cool and collected.**

**What I really wanted to do was scream and tear down the walls.**

"**Yes, Ron," my throat felt dry. "this is what I want to do." Was it? Was it really? A nagging doubt in the back of my mind was screaming no at the top of its lungs.**

**He nodded, a slow motion. "Okay, then, Lisa. We'll accept your letter of resignation when you're ready to turn it in. I think we all agree that we wish you nothing but the best of luck in your endeavors." He gave me a warm smile, then, they went on about the rest of the meeting's business.**

**Three minutes. My resignation had taken up three minutes of an hour and half long meeting. It was such a relief to get out of there. By the end, the room had felt stifling, and the walls had been closing in. The heat from all the eyes looking at me, wondering what I was thinking had nearly been too much.**

**I escaped the well meaning members of the Board by escaping into the stairwell. I didn't want to go back to my office; not yet. They were only trying to be supportive, and, besides, they were my bosses, but I didn't want to answer their questions. Not yet. I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear their words of encouragement, especially when my bravado was so fragile. One good knock would shatter all my illusions of why I was doing this.**

**I didn't know where to go, but soon, I found myself heading up the stairwell to the roof. It had been a long time since I'd been up there. I sat down on the thick concrete and brick ledge, watching as people filed in and out of the large glass double doors to the hospital 6 floors down.**

**From my vantage point, they looked like ants, scattering away. **

**I lost track of time, deep into my thoughts. I had tried to convince myself that what I was doing was the right thing. I tapped my fingers on the concrete ledge, surveying my kingdom.**

"**Cold feet." **

**I nearly jumped out of my skin. I twisted my head around so quickly I thought I'd given myself whiplash. "What are you doing here?" I sighed, turning away from the tall figure with the cane.**

**He shrugged. "You're not the only one who's good at running away. He limped over to the ledge. "I've not been up here since Stacey left me. The second time." He sat down, and he looked over the ledge. "Idiots," he muttered.**

"**Why are they idiots?" I rubbed at my temples.**

"**Not them," he jerked his chin towards the maddening crowd. "The Board." He snorted, "idiots."**

**I bit my lip, but didn't say anything.**

"**You're an idiot, too," he muttered, not looking away from the steady stream of moving people.**

"**Just because I want..."**

"**You're not being noble, so drop the act," his gaze shot up to me, and there, deep in there, was the slow burning passion. "You're being a coward. Running away from a situation that you don't want, or can't have."**

**I hissed and jerked, as if I'd been slapped, but he continued.**

"**It doesn't matter if you leave here," he declared, "because no matter where you run to, you'll always be where you are, and your problems will be there, too." He hopped up off the ledge, and he started to move towards the stairwell door.**

"**You narcissistic assh0le," I hissed, following after him. "You think you know everything. That you can solve every problem. What about you're problems?" He turned to face me, and I stopped inches away from him, invading his space. "You're just a miserable, crippled bastard who wants everyone to be as miserable as you. You had a chance a long time ago, and you squandered it." I took a deep breath. "Find something that makes you less miserable, and leave the rest of us the hell alone."**

**Something flickered in his eyes, and the anger blazed up. At first, I thought he was going to slap me, and I flinched away. I should have known better. As hot blooded as House could run, he'd never raise his hand to a woman. What he did do, though, made me weak in the knees and left me breathless. **

**He took a step toward me, backing me into the concrete wall that surrounded the hospital's heating and cooling units. I felt his fingers tickling my scalp as he cradled my head, and he lowered his head. He moved so fast, I hadn't even had time to blink.**

**His lips touched mine, and I felt his tongue demand entrance to my mouth. I involuntarily gasped, and he took total control. I felt myself trying to keep up, matching him kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Then, almost as soon as he had started the kiss, he backed away, leaving me breathless against the wall. He opened the door to the stairwell, then, turned and looked at me. The passion in his eyes had faded, and the once bright blue had dulled. "Just remember," he said, still breathing heavily, "you don't always get what you want."**

**Then, he left me alone on the roof, letting me ponder his words and deeds.**


	12. Chapter 12

**My lips were burning as I left the roof top. Why the hell had I done that? I could still see the liquid confusion in those storm gray eyes. She was doubting her decision; not that I could blame her. She was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. And why? Because we were two damn stubborn to change anything. Especially ourselves.**

**Change sucks. I've been trying to change for the past year. Trying to be better. How? I don't fucking know. It sucks. It's like stripping the varnish off an old ugly chair. You can remove all the lacquer, but, underneath all the layers, the chair is still ugly.**

**That's me. Old and ugly and bitter. I was in pain every hour of every day, and now, there was not escape from it. I had allowed myself to become defined by it, and I didn't know how to move on.**

**I limped down the stairwell, pausing on the steps. It hurt. It hurt so bad that I felt tears sting my eyes. The pulsating ache permeated the surrounding tissue, radiating out. My breathing became heavy, and I rubbed at the scarred tissue with the heel of my hand, the rough fabric of my jeans scraping against my thigh. **

**I wanted to be alone, and I cursed to myself as I heard the door at the top of the stairwell slam shut. It took every bit of willpower I had, but I managed to swallow the scream of anguish that bubbled up in my throat. I let out a hiss of breath between my clenched teeth, burying my pain. I used my cane from leverage to steady myself, and I continued on my decent. _Show them no fear, show them no pain_, I thought to myself as I continued on, heading to the lab to see what the kiddies were up to, then I could retreat to my office, and I could deal with the increasing ache.**

**Thank GOD for that hidden bottle of Cutty Sark.**

**Wilson dropped by my office late that afternoon. The sun was still shining brightly, flooding my office with happy yellow light. Where was a good thunderstorm when you needed it? He watched me quietly for a moment, before sighing.. "Sam's gotta work tonight," he folded his arms across his chest. He pursed his lips, waiting for me to say something. **

**I lifted my eyes up from the CT scans in my hand. "And? You miss me already?" I sighed, lisping slightly. "Kinda whorish to want to jump back into my bed of neediness," I snarked, shortly. **

**His lips quirked up into a slight smile. Wilson didn't really smirk, he just had this real smart ass little smile that drove me crazy, and it drove the girlies crazy.**

**No wonder he'd never paid for getting laid. All he did was flash that dimple, and the girls de-robed in record time, ready to go.**

**The last time I tried to smile at a girl, all I got was slapped.**

"**I'll always be attracted to your neediness," he retorted. "Sam's already come to terms that this is a three way." He gave a little shrug. "You wanna go to Chaser's?"**

"**The strip club on Third and Vine?" I blinked. Strip clubs weren't Wilson's style. He got more STD-free tail at the opera than at Bouncers. Lucky bastard.**

**He rolled his eyes. "No, the sports bar off of Broadway," he replied, rolling his eyes. He huffed a little. "Is sex really the only thing you think about?" he asked, lifting a thick eyebrow.**

"**No," I retorted, putting the scans away. They were clean anyway. No clues there. "Sometimes, I think about doctor stuff. My lips quirked up into a little smirk. "But only when I don't think about sex." I picked up my cane from where it leaned against the glass covered desk, and I limped over to him, hiding the pain, tamping it down. Getting liquored up sounded like a good idea. I pointed the black rubber end of the honey colored stick at him. "You're buyin'"**

**He shrugged. "What else is new?" With that, we left the hospital together, and I had high hopes of forgetting this suck ass day. **

**The sports bar was a small chain trying hard to be like the big boys. Memorabilia from the Phillies, the Yanks, the Mets, the Jets, the Eagles, and the Giants coated the walls like a schizophrenic artists masterpiece., but what interested me wasn't the 60" flat screen TV, or the athletic junk. It was the loaded bar advertising buck fifty "U call its." I bellied up, and ordered my first mixed drink.**

"**Keep it up, and I'm shipping your ass to Al-anon," Wilson muttered, glaring darkly as I downed a shot.**

**I felt the burn as the brown liquor trickled down my throat. A warmth filled my belly, and I knew it wouldn't bee that long before the pain subsided. I closed my eyes, sighing. "I don't have vicodin..." I began, but he cut me off.**

"**Don't even say it. You've just switched from vicodin to alcohol," he said, glaring at me from over his own beer. "You're still killing yourself, just with a different poison."**

**I matched his own glare with my own. "I didn't come here with you to be self-righteous-ed to death, either." I informed him, downing my beer.**

**We sat in silence for a while, watching the Phillies lose. It was painful, and we both groaned as we gave up yet another home run. I kept drinking, and Wilson kept talking, which annoyed the hell out of me. Didn't the man know when to shut up?**

"**What are you running from?" he rubbed at his forehead. He was trying, trying so hard to understand what I was doing. Why I kept making myself miserable. It was actually kinda pathetic.**

"**You," I retorted, slamming another now empty bottle down. I felt woozy. Had I really just slammed that? The waitress came and took our plates away. Had we really eaten? I blinked, realizing that time was playing tricks on me. I stood up, swaying.**

"**House?" I heard Wilson ask. I think it was Wilson. I couldn't really tell, his voice was distorted. I was more than drunk, I realized, I was trashed. How long had we been here? I felt an hand grab my arm, and I jerked it free, backing up into someone.**

"**Watch it, man!" someone shouted. I glared over my shoulder, then felt someone push me. I may not be a bulky guy, but I'm no lightweight. I pushed back, then felt someone grab my shirt. "House, god no!" Wilson tried to intervene, but the guy I'd been in a shoving match with took a swing. I saw the fist coming. Saw the swing in slow motion, watching it as the leather clad arm hurtled towards me, but I couldn't get out of the way fast enough. The synapses in my brain stopped firing, and I felt the crunch of fist on the bridge of my nose. **

**White hot pain lanced through my head, and I was falling, falling, falling. More pain, then nothing.**

**The last thought I remembered thinking was**_**, this day really has been shitty.**_


	13. Chapter 13

**I knew who was calling before I had even opened my eyes.**

**It had been a long day, full of apprehension and fear. And that kiss. I couldn't get my mind off of it. The need in it, the want, the desire.**

**And how much I had wanted it.**

**Damn that man. I was a moth, and he was a bonfire. I was going to get roasted by his flames. **

**My phone was beeping incessantly, rousing me from deeply disturbing dreams that involved a tall man with a cane, and kissing, among other things. I didn't want to wake up; dreams were so much better than reality. **

**I cracked open a bleary eyelid, staring at the vivid green of the large numbers on my alarm clock. I ached, body and soul, and the beeping of the phone was echoed in the throbbing of an emptiness that had filled my body. Reluctantly, I stretched out a hand, and I picked up the blackberry.**

**Wilson.**

**I was wrong about the person, but I knew it _had _to be about _him._ I bit my lip. Do I answer it? If he's calling at 1 am, then it's important. And it's about a certain diagnostician.**

**Sighing heavily, I answered. "Cuddy here," I croaked. "And this better be an emergency," I added, more harshly than I had intended.**

"**It's about House," came the direct response, in the sound of a sigh.**

"**I figured," I bit out, letting Wilson know that I wasn't amused by his interruption of my sleep. "Is he dead, in jail, or missing?" Morpheus was calling me, and I wanted to answer him. I just didn't want to deal with House anymore.**

"**He's in the ER," Wilson told me. I could see him rubbing his forehead the way he did when he was nervous. "There was a fight..."**

**I sighed. "Is he okay."**

"**He's unconscious. He hit his head on a table on the way down." **

**I closed my eyes, biting my lip. "Okay. Okay," I told him, tossing back the thick comforter on my bed, preparing to do something I swore I was going to stop doing. "I need to find a sitter..." I began, rummaging in my drawer for some clothes.**

**Wilson paused, and I could hear voices in the background. "Chase and Thirteen are here, getting off shift," he told me. "They said they can look after Rachel."**

**I sighed. "Okay. I'm on my way. I pressed the end button, hating myself for once again rushing to his side. **

**The ER was surprising calm at 2am. There were a few people milling about, and a couple of families sitting in the waiting area, nervous looks on their faces. The bright florescent lights reflected off the white tile floor, creating a stark contrast to the dark, bleak night outside.**

**Wilson was waiting on me when I cam in, his forehead furrowed with worry. Chase and Thirteen stood beside him, dressed in their street clothes. Chase's eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and I saw a ghost of a smirk on his face as he reached for Rachel. "Doctor Cuddy," he drawled, his accent thick with slight amusement. "I don't ever think I'd ever thought I'd see you in jeans and running shoes."**

**Rachel fussed at the transfer, and she started to screw up her face and cry, cranky at being woke up at such a strange hour. She stopped when she heard Chase's rich accent rumble from him. She turned to him, her mouth still open for the wail she had planned on letting loose, and she stared at him, waiting for him to speak again.**

**I felt bad for waking her up, but there was no way I was going to leave a 16 month old alone. This was why I was leaving, I reminded myself. No more late night phone calls. No more worrying about things that were out of my reach. No more choosing him over my family. This vicious cycle had to end.**

"**Thanks for doing this, Dr. Chase," I handed over the diaper bag. "Everything she needs is in there."**

"**Cool," he grinned, watching her face light up at the strange accent. I guess all females are drawn to him, even tiny ones who don't know any better. "I'll just take her to your office," he told me. "Remy's going to stay with me, too."**

"**Thank you so much." He nodded in reply, then turned and walked down the hall with Thirteen. I whirled on Wilson. "How is he?" Wordless, he lead me out of the ER, and to the patient rooms. **

"**He's scheduled for a MRI tomorrow, if he wakes up," he intoned morosely. "Right now, he has a concussion. CT shows minor a minor bleeding on the right front lobe. He's also got a fractured cheekbone, and broken nose, and a black eye." He sighed. "He still unconscious. Right now, the biggest concern is possible brain swelling." **

**I nodded, and he lead me into the patient room.**

**I can't say I was surprised by what I saw. His face was battered and bruised, swollen from the fight. His right eye was swollen shut, surrounded by a deep purplish blue ring. His already slightly crooked nose was also puffed up, and he had a deep cut above his right eyebrow, stitched tightly. **

**He was a mess.**

**His breathing was regular, and the heart rate monitor beeped at a steady rate. Wilson hung back at the doorway, rubbing his hands together. I turned my head toward him. "Go home, Wilson. Get a little rest. I'll give you a call if anything changes." He nodded, but didn't move, his eyes glued on his best friend. I sighed. It wasn't the first we'd seen him in this position, and, sadly, it wouldn't be the last. "James, whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. House is a big boy, and whatever he did, it was his choice."**

**Wilson seemed to be slightly relieved at that. His shoulders sagged, weighted by the conscience of being House's best friend. "You'll call?" **

**I nodded. "Yeah." He slipped out of the room quietly, but I knew he wasn't heading home. He was probably going up to his office to worry and wait. Good ol' James Evan Wilson. He carried the burden of being House's only friend well.**

**I sat down in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed, and I brooded on that. Was James really House's only friend? Once upon a time, I would have been considered one, too, but not now. Not anymore. **

**So much had happened between us. So many angry words had been said. We'd really grown apart from our friendship. I bit my lip, staring down at his face, calm in drugged sleep. I fought the urge to stroke his bearded jaw, still jutting out stubbornly. The man never knew the meaning of the word quit. **

**Unlike me.**

**His hand twitched a little, drawing my attention to it. His heart rate remained steady, and his breathing never hitched. I stretched out my hand, and I gently stroked his palm, feeling the thick callouses on the heel from where he gripped his cane. I noticed how much larger his hand was from mine, and how the tendons stood out, stark ridges on the top. His nails were blunt and thick, his fingers long and graceful. I blushed slightly, remembering how, all those long years ago, just how nimble those fingers were. **

**I slipped my hand into his, squeezing it slightly, remembering that yes, underneath all the layers of denial, that I still considered him a friend. And he now needed me. Need someone to touch him, and I needed to be there for him.**

**I sat there for a long time, and I wound up dozing off in the hard chair, later amazed that I had been able to sleep at all. I woke up a little before dawn. I had been dreaming of being in the center of a storm raging out of control, but I was the only one who could reign it in. My eyes had shot open, and I found myself looking into one brilliantly blue eye; the other still swollen shut. My mouth was dry, and suddenly I found it hard to swallow, hard to find words to say.**

**He glanced down at our hands, the fingers still intertwined together. He licked his lips, and it a hoarse, croaky voice, he whispered. "I screwed up, didn't I."**


	14. Chapter 14

**I woke up feeling like shit. Nah, I stand corrected. Shit feels better than this.**

**My face and head felt like someone had beat it with a sack of potatoes. It hurt to move, hurt to think, which is something I haven't been doing a lot of lately. My temples throbbed in time with the beeping of the heart rate monitor, causing me to wince, which just caused even more aching. What the hell had I done?**

**So I lay there, for a while, trying to gauge my injuries. My nose felt stuffy and swollen; it hurt to breath. Broken nose, my brain registered. I tried to open my eyes, but only one was cooperating. Facial fracture. My head hurt all over.**

**I tested my memory. I was Gregory House, 50 years old. I had spent a good chunk of the last year living with my bestest friend, James Wilson. We'd bought a loft on Meridian St in Princeton, NJ, the city I'd lived and worked in for the last decade and a half.**

**Okay, the basic facts were still in tact. Now, for the fun part. What the hell happened last night.**

**I closed my left eye, since it seemed to be the only one that was working, and I thought about what had happened.**

**I remembered showing up to work Monday, hung over. I hoped that it was still yesterday, and I hadn't lost any more time than a few hours. I remembered confronting Cuddy on the roof over her leaving. My chest felt heavy and tightened up. I swallowed, finding a hard lump in my throat. I remembered drinking in the office, and then leaving with Wilson. After that, it got a little fuzzy. Then a lot fuzzy. Then, nada, until I woke up I here, just a few minutes ago.**

**Great, short term memory is in tact. I tried not to dwell too much on what I remembered from there.**

**I started testing my limbs for paralysis. I flexed my toes, and my leg muscles. I flexed my fingers, and I felt something odd in my right hand. I slowly turned my head to the side, wincing with the motion. I bit my lip at what I saw.**

**Cuddy was sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the room, asleep. Her dark hair was pulled back in a long, silky tail, but her bangs fell in disarray over her eyes, which were closed. The chair was pushed as close to the bed as possible. Her head had drooped and was resting on her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm.**

**She looked so beautiful.**

**My eye flickered down, and I realized that the pressure I was feeling in my hand was her hand. Her arm was stretched out in front of her, but in that limp bonelessness one only gets in sleep.**

**When did she get here?**

**I laid there for a long time, watching her sleep. She seemed so...peaceful. So at ease. More so than I'd ever seen her awake. Her hand was a welcome weight, a reassurance that someone was here.**

**That someone cared.**

**I licked my dry lips, desperately wishing I had some water, but I didn't want to move. I didn't want to disturb her. So I just watched her.**

**A while later, she stirred, stretching slightly in the chair. She had to have been uncomfortable, but she never pulled her hand back. She yawned, and she opened those stormy eyes, and they locked with mine.**

**I could see myself reflected in those wide, gray orbs, red-rimmed with sleep. I looked like hell, and I felt like hell. I licked my lips again, took a deep breath. "I screwed up, didn't I." My voice sounded weak to me.**

**She furrowed her brow, unsure of what to say. I could see her indecisiveness. She absently stroked my palm, her touch leaving burning a path into my hand. Finally, she sighed. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked, softly.**

**I wanted to jerk my hand away. I didn't want that flame hot touch on my flesh anymore, but I didn't have the strength to pull it back. I was tired, so tired. "Because, this is what I do?" I whispered, unable to make my dry voice work. She started to get up to get me some water, but I gripped her hand, silently pleading her to stay.**

"**But, **_**why**_**?" she asked, frustrated. She sat back down in the chair. "House, I don't want to keep doing this," she whispered, harshly.**

"**Then don't!" I willed my voice to sound. "Then don't do this. Run away with your perfect family, and forget about me!"**

"**I **_**can't**_**," she cried, balling her hands into fists. "I can't leave you. I try, but I can't escape the way I feel about you. I'll keep coming back, no matter how far away I am! God help me, but I love you!"**

**I was stunned. The words slipped out of her mouth in a fit of frustration, but they were true. I stared at her in shocked silence. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. **

**She stood up, staring at me. "I'm sorry, House." she told me. She turned around and left me trying to wrap my mind around what she had admitted. Trying to comprehend what she had said.**

**I love you. The words chase themselves around in my head, slowly penetrating my bruised and battered brain.**

**She loved me. _Loved me_! And what had I ever done to her? Give her nothing but grief and suffering and insults.**

**I laid in bed, wondering what I had ever done to deserve that. I didn't come up with anything, and the pain became too much. My eye fluttered, and sleep overtook me, my bruised brain still trying to figure out what it all meant.**


	15. Chapter 15

_**I love you.**_

**After so many years, and so many games, why had I finally said that? Was it the realization that Lucas and I would never work out, how our ambitions were so different? Was it seeing House laid out in a hospital yet again, knowing how much he hurt, and that he'd been hurt to feel...**

**To feel what? Pain? His life was full of it. To feel alive? Maybe that was it. He shut himself off so much from life, that maybe he needed to hurt to feel.**

**I bit my lip as I reached the end of the hallway. I stared at the elevator, wondering which direction I needed to take. I hit the up button, and I stepped inside, staring at the top of the box I was in.**

**I felt guilty. Had I missed all these warning signs, again? I had thought myself as a friend of his, but obviously, I was missing something. Had I just dismissed him as House being House? That it was in his nature to be self destructive? I bit my lip, pondering these questions, feeling a lead weight form in my stomach. **

**I was relieved when the elevator doors opened, and I could escape that tiny space. Lately, I'd been feeling claustrophobic, especially if I was alone with my thoughts in a confined space. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't because of him.**

**Everybody lies.**

**I made it to Wilson's office, and I stared at the letters on the fake wood door for a few minutes, my hand lifted to knock. I was going to let him know that House was awake, but I couldn't bring myself to strike the door.**

**I sighed, and I let my arm drop heavily to my side. I took a few steps back into the dim hallway. There are no patient rooms on this floor; just doctor's offices, so at night, this is one of the few places we can darken to save a little on the electric bill. No doctor has office hours after five p.m; not even House, although, he doesn't have office hours at all.**

**I stared at the glass walled office; it's blinds drawn like a blanket around it. Protecting it. It felt like him; closed off. It felt like it should have a large, red keep out sign posted on it.**

**And like a moth, I was drawn to it.**

**I took out my spare key to his office, and I unlocked it. As many times as he has broken into my office, I've probably broken in to his an equal amount. Except I make damn sure I don't get caught. I slipped in the door, and I stood in the dark office.**

**I hadn't been in here for a few weeks. I'd actually been doing my best to avoid him, and staying out of his personal sanctuary inside the hospital seemed like a good way to do that. I felt an odd sort of comfort that nothing had changed. His toys still lay on his desk, arranged like one would arranged like one would arrange religious relics. I took a few tentative steps over to his desk, and I picked up his oversized tennis ball. The ball felt warm in my cold hands, and the fuzzy texture tickled my palms. I circled around the desk, rolling the ball in my hands. I could feel places where the fuzz was wearing thin from heavy use.**

**I sat down in his office chair, thinking back to all the times I'd seen him deep in thought, manipulating this ball. I stared at it, rubbing it like it was an ancient lamp, and that any moment a genie would pop out of it, granting me three wishes. **

**What would I wish for? A happy family? A loving husband? A great father for my child?**

**Or for my misanthropic best friend and worst employee to be his usual snarky, sarcastic self, and for him to get over this moody, brooding period he was going through. **

**As I thought of that, my defenses broke down, and I felt the weight and stress of the past year crash down on my fragile shoulders. The damn that held my emotions in check crashed down, and tears fell from my eyes, dripping down the lines of my face. I put the ball down, and I covered my eyes with my hands, sobbing until dawn broke over Princeton, and I felt like I couldn't cry anymore.**

**Shortly after dawn, I left the hospital, cradling a sleeping Rachel in my arms. She seemed no worse for wear after the rough night, and I planned to let Marina know to take it easy on her today. **

**After a shower and a quick change of clothes, I arrived at the hospital a little before eight, surprising everyone who knew what was going on. I hadn't formally turned in my resignation yet, but I had called for an emergency Board meeting for the next day to deal with it. **

**I needed to do something first.**

**My day progressed as normal as it could, but a sense of..._something_ began to build up in me. Whether it was intuition, an innate psychic ability, or just the force, I don't know. What I do know is that I felt a sense of foreboding build in the bottom of my stomach all day. My body thrummed with anxiety, and my nerves were on edge. The slightest thing could cause me to clench my teeth and stiffen my spine.**

**Something was going to happen. Something _had _to happen. It was time.  
**

**After I left for work, I came home and changed. I packed a quick overnight bag for Rachel, and loaded her portable playpen in the car. I buckled her in, and I slipped in the driver's seat. I started the car, and we left.**

**It was time to stop running away. It was time to move on.**


	16. Chapter 16

**She was gone when I woke up again, and Wilson was one hell of a lousy replacement.**

**He felt guilty, for letting me get myself in this mess, and Cuddy must have given him the day off, because he spent most of the morning by my bed, nodding off at times. That's cool; I had other things to worry about. Like what I was gonna do about one Lisa Cuddy.**

**I had a MRI done around mid-morning. Surprisingly, my brain was fine; no swelling. They let me go with some non-opiate pain pills for my concussion and broken bones. My jaw wasn't broken, but it felt like it should be, so they advised me not to eat too solid of food for the next few days. I'd have the stitches above my right eyebrow taken out in a few days. Wilson wrote me the scripts, and I picked them on my way out. I was released a little after noon.**

**I went home, and I sat on my couch. I was bored and lost. As much as I hate work, I hate not having anything to do a lot more. I watched T.V. Until I thought my eyes were going to bleed, and I played piano until my fingers, back, and head hurt. I decided to lay down on the couch, listening to soft, moody jazz.**

**I must have dozed off, because I awoke to incessant knocking. I groaned, my head throbbing as I sat up. There wasn't a place I didn't hurt, but, for once, it seemed to be radiating from my head instead of my thigh, though, my leg didn't want to give up it's place as first for pain in my body.**

**The knocking continued, but I didn't get up. Instead, I reached for the bottle of pain pills on the coffee table. I shook a few of the tablets out into my palm, and I downed them dry. I sat for a moment or two, trying to get my bearings. Once the pain was reduced to a merely tolerable stage, I got up, and I staggered to the door. **

**To say I was shocked when I opened it was like saying the Black Death was just a cold.**

**There, standing in the entry way of my apartment, was Lisa Cuddy.**

**And she was toting her brat on her hip.**

**She stood there, looking up at me with those storm gray eyes, and she licked her lips. "Can I come in?"**

**There was something there, in her voice. A need, a desire. I heard it, and she heard it. I moved back away from the doorway, and she put Rachel on the floor. The kid immediately tottered around. I stared at Cuddy, curious and frustrated. "What are you doing here?" I asked, not keeping the irritation out of my voice.**

**She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. I could practically read her mind. She was...afraid. There was something in the set of her shoulders, the stiffness in her spine. She dug into the bag at her him, and she handed me a few papers. "To give you this," she said, looking away from my probing glance. She kept those stormy eyes on her kid, trying to keep from looking at me. **

**I looked at it, and then, realization hit me; it was her resignation letter. My eyes snapped back to her profile, I didn't know why she'd given it to mee.. "What's this?" I asked, confused, feeling the weight of the heavy, ivory colored paper. The kind of paper that high school diplomas are printed on.**

**I saw her throat jump a little as she swallowed. "My resignation letter," she told me, straightening her shoulders a bit. "My future."**

**The hand holding the papers shook a little. I frowned, wondering slowly out loud, "what do you want me to do with it?" I was trying to wrap my battered brain around what she was trying to prove.**

**She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. "Whatever you want." She was trying to play it cool, but I knew better. Lisa Cuddy might play the Ice Queen role, but underneath, she's as hot blooded as the rest of us.**

**I glanced down at the papers again, looking at them more closely. I had to squint, and bring them a little closer to my face. Damn, I hated getting old. My reading glasses were across the room, and I really didn't feel like walking. As it was, standing like this was causing my thigh to ache. I read through it, studying it. I glanced up, and I realized that she was giving me an odd look, her gray eyes projecting bemused puzzlement. I snorted. "I don't feel like paying for LAZIK surgery like you did." **

**Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How did you know...," she began, trailing off as she thought about it.**

**Seriously? She's known me how long? I grunted a non-response. She had to have known I broke into her medical records. For professional reasons. Of course.**

**I skimmed over the rest of the letter, and, as I came to the end, I suddenly felt very tired. It was time to end the game. "Why did you give this to me?" I asked, as seriously as I could.**

"**I felt you needed..."**

"**Needed to what? See it? It's your fate; your future. Only you can decide what you want to do."**

**She shook her head, vehemently. "No, I can walk away, but I can't move on. I can run from my feelings, but I can't hide from them. It'll catch up with me, eventually." She inhaled sharply, and I could feel the tension radiating from her. **

**I licked my lips, and I took a step towards her. "What do you want?" I asked, my voice a harsh whisper. **

**She bit her lip. "You," she breathed. "You and here."**

**I couldn't help it. I cupped her face, and I tentatively kissed her lips. A soft, featherlight kiss. She rose up on her tip toes, trying to meet my lips, but I pulled back. "See," I smirked lightly. "It wasn't that hard was it?"**

**Her eyes flew open, and her mouth fell agape. "You assh0le," she breathed, but she was smiling when she said it. I went to kiss her again, but a sudden crashing sound came from the piano. I stiffened, and I turned around, to find her brat sitting on my piano bench, pounding on the ivory keys as hard as she could, filling the room with loud, dissonant notes. Cuddy peaked out from behind me, raising a hand to her lips to stifle her giggles. **

**I glared at her, then I turned back to her kid, who was laughing as she "played." I snorted, then shook my head. It was a package deal, no matter what. I looked down at the papers still in my hand, then I had an idea. I walked over to my fireplace, and even though it was a hot day in may, I stoked a fire. When the flames took, I tossed in Cuddy's letter. I turned back to her, and I saw she was watching me from my piano bench with wide, gray eyes. I'd made my choice, too.**

**I hobbled over to them, and Cuddy pulled Rachel off the bench and on to her lap. I sat down, and I began to play for them, captivating both of them. As the notes filled the room, I almost smiled to myself; we wouldn't be lonely tonight.**

**The End**


End file.
